knife man
by snotkiddo
Summary: [changed the side couple because i stopped shipping it lmao] They've always called on Christophe and Gregory for help, and the duo always come no matter how crazy a situation seems. But stalker cases are always way too personal, and the mock-detectives always get way too close.
1. the michael jordan of drunk driving

_his laziness built the pyramids and his solitude was a knife_

 **South Park** was in bold lettering painted on aging wood; it had been a long time since he'd been in this town and even longer dealing with a request like this.

The South Park kids had one job presented to him before and he ended up dead. Making him see things he didn't want to at a younger age, such as the rotting corpses in hell. But all was forgiven now(because of Kenny). He was seventeen and dropped out of high school to pursue the shit job he has now. Mercenary or hit man, whoever the fuck, he took up jobs from others in need and followed through with them until he got paid. He wasn't poor, probably just as rich as the next man. He could be saving his wealth, and becoming a millionaire with the type of money he's getting, but instead he got into gambling and traveling across seas.

One last, loud scuff from his shoes before he was able to knock on the door in front of him. Judging by the lack of a car in the driveway, the boy's parents were either out running errands or working their asses off at the cafe.

The first thing he saw was a wild mass of hair on top of a freckled teen's face, "Christophe?" Tweek asked.

As if Christophe had really changed all that much. He still had a rat's nest he called his hair, along with a cigarette in between his teeth and the smell of dirt perfuming the air around him. "Tweek." Christophe stated, pushing passed the other and entering the clean home.

"You're late," Tweek closed the door behind them with a solid click, and Christophe put his cigarette out in moist soil containing a bundle of roses.

"Not by much," the frenchman sighed out the last bit of smoke he had in his lungs, letting it build around his face before he blew it away to dissipate into the air surrounding them. Christophe was unsure of how Tweek grew up. How did the rest of the gang turn out? After La Resistance, his mother took him off to some other crazy city where his life turned into even more shit.

"This job is… urgent, I really need it taken care of soon," Tweek broke Chris out of his thoughts, drawing him to turn around to face him as he spoke.

"It concerns your life?" Christophe asked, leaning back before sitting down on the steps casually.

Tweek fidgeted at the thought of dying and pointed his face away. Instead he watched the snow start to fall just outside the window, "It could."

A slow nod before he spoke, and Tweek finally faced him again, "Is it messing with you emotionally?"

"Yeah, i-it is," it was easy to tell Tweek wasn't sleeping recently, or at least not as much as the few hours he got before anyway, probably too busy staying up all night with a death grip on his baseball bat.

Christophe gave one last nod before standing and walking upstairs where he assumed Tweek stayed, "To your room then, Tweak."

* * *

He had gotten the basics.

Stalker, probably same grade, probably drives or has someone who can drive them, dangerous.

Other than that Christophe had to find his own clues. He wasn't a master detective, and didn't know much about this kind of work, but he could complete it with a certain partner he had in mind.

Gregory Smith wouldn't mind as long as he got a share of the money. He wasn't too far away from South Park, just a couple of states over, and with Chris paying for the plane ticket, he'll be here by tomorrow afternoon.

Christophe made note of that before walking to the small hotel in the center of town.

He wouldn't be too surprised if the stalker was watching him leave Tweek's house right now. He wondered what color eyes he had, what color hair. He'd find all that out soon enough, he was sure of it.

The sunset was slow but calming, and just before he reached his hotel the streetlights came on to light the way for him. He pushed the heavy door forward and wasn't surprised when the desk clerk didn't greet him with a smile. "Delorne, Christophe." He was short with his words - desperately wanting to stop dragging his suitcase around.

He got the key and took the elevator one floor up.

Christophe's eyes moved to a slow moving object at the end of the hall. On edge, he watched for a moment longer before his vision cleared and he saw a black cat slinking and bouncing off to the other rooms. "Chat noir," he mused before turning the opposite direction and sauntering lazily to his room.

When he opened the door, the first thing he noticed was the smell. It was floral, bordering on nauseating. There were small paintings scattered across the walls, and a queen sized bed that had a strong smell of laundry detergent. Two nightstands on either side of the bed, both having a lamp displayed on the top. TV remote, channel menu, and a notepad with pens sitting in a cup all sat on the desk that was beside the TV. A small desk chair was tucked underneath it, and looked extremely uncomfortable due to the fact that there was no cushion.

Christophe sat the suitcase beside the bed and moved to the bathroom, checking out the provided shampoo and conditioner before shutting off the light and exiting.

The rest of the night was reviewing the porn channels that he had to buy, and spending his money impulsively to get them and then not even watch them. Christophe fell asleep at 4:00 AM watching Bee Movie and wondering how Barry B. Benson got such a hot mama.

* * *

Screaming ran through the halls.

Christophe's screaming to be exact. "Chat Noir" decided to somehow sneak into his room last night and wake him up by licking his face. His accent noticeably thicker as he yelled at the cat to leave, throwing pillows at it and ignoring the hissing and growling that came from the beast. Chris liked cats, definitely better than he liked dogs, but when it was an animal he barely knew that somehow got into his room without him knowing how, he was going to get a little pissy.

He assumed the person knocking on his door and asking if he was okay was a maid. He yelled back that he was, and ran his hands over his hair, combing it back away from his forehead as he racked his brain for ideas. He could just chase the cat outside, but he wasn't sure if it would go in the direction he wanted. Leaving the animal alone for now so that it would calm down, he turned on the TV and listened for any important details.

The plans for today were simple, find clues so that he can help out his client Tweek (after throwing the cat outside first, of course).

Christophe glanced over at the clock that read 11:57 AM, and it wasn't until now that he noticed how painfully hungry he was. There was a constant and sharp stab in his belly that continued to ache and whine. He knew he wouldn't be able to have a full lunch, and he only hoped that a poptart would suffice for now. He massaged his fingers into the skin of his stomach while he wished that it would relieve some of the pain.

Gregory should be arriving in the early afternoon, and that gave him enough time to shower and get himself ready for his germaphobic friend. Christophe rarely changed for anyone unless their presence actually meant something to him. Gregory had been around long enough for his trust to fully build.

Slouching as he sat up, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet firmly onto the carpet. The search would soon begin, he just needed his hound first. As much as he hated dogs, there was no other way to describe Gregory. There was no one better at sniffing out clues than him.

* * *

Even after a shower, Chris still smelled of dirt. It wasn't disgusting, and didn't make anyone turn their head away to try and catch a whiff of fresh air. It was nature, plants, flowers. Dirt. His hair was still damp and made him colder against the cool air of the hotel room. Despite just brushing his teeth, he had a cigarette in his mouth. The window was open and he let the fumes escape and twirl with the wind. It reminded him of The Last Unicorn.

His hunger cured but his boredom still present, he started repeating words he heard on the TV. Woman. Dog. Movie. Weather. Chris zoned out after that and didn't even realize at how fast time was passing. A knock on his door startled him from his daydreams and he stood, throwing away any trash he left on the desk before opening the door and being greeted by a bright, familiar smile.

"Gregory," He stated, and the other rolled his eyes at how formal he was.

"Chris," he mimicked and waited until the shorter man invited him inside. Gregory looked around the room, observant in every situation he was placed in, before he looked back at Chris and inquired about the new job.

Christophe sat on the bed and motioned for Gregory to take a seat as well. Which he did, pulling out the desk chair and gracefully seating himself in it. "Stalker," he bluntly answered before continuing, "He's dangerous, and is most likely in the same grade as Tweek. Basically, we need to track him down and stop his behavior. I thought that the best person to help me with that would be you."

Tapping his slender fingers against the desk he nodded, a confident grin displayed on his pale face. "Of course you thought of me, Christophe," He began, "I'm the only other person you ever allow yourself to work with anymore."

It always started out like this. They both had their guards up and mocked each other, then later in the night they'd break down over Marley & Me and hold each other until they both stopped crying.

Ignoring the comments that Gregory made about his social life, he brought up an important question, "Where do we look first? Any ideas?"

Looking through the channels on the TV absentmindedly, Gregory hummed, hopefully thinking about the right things at the moment before Christophe began to lose his patience. Before the blonde could answer though, Chris' phone began ringing. The name, "Tweek Tweak" shining on the screen.

Christophe wasn't sure if this was an emergency or not but the conversation he had with Tweek yesterday had him a little bit on edge.

"Who's that?" Gregory's look of concern only made Chris more nervous about answering, he did it anyway, and he got in the first word: a crisp hello.

" _I got a letter in my mailbox from him_ ," came a familiar voice on the other line.

"We'll start there, then," Gregory stretched before getting up and rushing Chris to the door.

"We'll come by, Tweek," Christophe finally answered, and an audible but relieved sigh came from the speaker.


	2. gift of the magi 2: return of the magi

_i used to be a dead guy and now i'm a fucking jedi_

Taking the car that Gregory rented, they reached Tweek's house in a matter of minutes. Checking his watch for the time, Chris pursed his lips at how late it still was. Just like yesterday, his shoes were loud against the chilled concrete leading up to the front porch.

Christophe let Gregory do all the talking as he spaced out for the time being until Gregory brought him back for Tweek's story.

The story that might help them find the bastard stalking the poor blond.

* * *

It started out innocent, a few notes here and there commenting on his outfit for the day. The next confessed the person's admiration. Tweek admitted to being excited about this. He usually doesn't date people, especially because most people treat him like a spaz.

But like most things in South Park, the person didn't turn out to be all that innocent. Soon the notes got darker and more demented, going from sweet and complimentary to just downright creepy. He thought someone was pranking him. This isn't too far from what Cartman is capable of. Of course his mind went to that psycho first, with all the shit he's done before. But the notes held truth to their words, because it didn't feel like a joke at all. It felt too real. Way too real.

That's when Tweek's paranoia truly sunk in.

He started out like his normal self, overly tense and anxious, checking behind his back every once and awhile, just overall more careful. Then he started skipping class, then school altogether. Because of this stupid stalker his grades were dropping. His attendance was decreasing and so was his motivation to try and live a normal life. Craig and Token would call him to check up on him, and then after breaking down in front of his mom about schoolwork and his depression, he was able to join a different kind of program that allowed him to stay home and work on his assignments without worrying. He was a lot less stressed than he used to be. There was easier work and no fear of spine-tickling notes from a deranged stalker.

Life was good for awhile.

Until his stalker decided to get closer than ripped pieces of paper.

He remembered the night clearly, it was on replay in the back of his mind for most parts of the day.

Tweek had fallen asleep in the living room. He had probably woken up in the middle of the night because he wasn't entirely used to sleeping on the couch. He was about ready to turn and face the wall until he opened his eyes and stopped short. A silhouette of a man stood before his window - breath spreading evenly against the cold glass. Tweek could see how steady the man was breathing, how calm he was even in the current situation. Tweek was a sharp contrast to that man. His muscles were telling him to run, get far away from the spot he was currently in, just fucking do something. Instead, he pretended he was still asleep, the only thing that was off was the fact that his eyes were still open, trying to make out any defining features he could find. He was tall, lanky, and undeniably creepy. His sudden movement towards the door would have made Tweek flinch if it weren't for the fact that he was paralyzed with fear.

The blond stared blankly at the door, half expecting it to open but instead he was met with the soft jiggling of a locked doorknob. It stopped for a minute, and he thought that it was okay to start moving, probably to text Craig about what had just happened until he saw the unknown figure come back and stand in front of the window, hand raised and pressed to the glass, as if the man was reaching for something.

Like he was reaching for him.

This part made Christophe think about _The Great Gatsby_. Anyway;

Tweek's heart had basically stopped in this moment, actually everything seemed to have stilled except for the man standing before the glass. Tweek wanted to reach back, as crazy as it seemed, he could feel something drawing him to the man. But he knew better, he knew what he had to do and that was to stay put; to stay "asleep".

After that day, it seemed that everything got worse. His anxiety skyrocketed and every little noise was that man in a black shadow staring at him. Every blur in the corner of Tweek's eyes, and definitely every fucking shadow. After that night, it was clear that Tweek wasn't able to escape.

After the whole explanation of his fears and what he's been through, he showed them the letter. Gregory opened it with clean gloved hands and inspected the handwriting carefully, eyes narrowing at the slightest detail of the penmanship. He hummed, then gestured to the other letters to read.

It was obvious the moment he laid eyes on the original note that these two letters were not done by the same person. "They're different. They're both very creepy, and definitely written to cause shock, but the penmanship of the first is way off from the second."

Christophe noted this and looked at Tweek's stressed face with sympathetic raised eyebrows, "What else did you pick up?"

Gregory put the papers back into their envelopes and set them on the glass coffee table, "The one with neater handwriting seems to be in charge."

"In charge?" Christophe turned his gaze to Gregory, and waited for the blond to continue.

"The words he uses, how he forms his sentences. He's either trying to tell us that he has something over the stalker or he's just that arrogant twenty-four-seven," Gregory paused and lifted the newest letter up to the light, "Different envelopes too. This one is thicker, not from South Park. I don't think the stalker pays that much attention to what he stuffs his notes inside of. There's no stamp, meaning it was hand delivered by the person himself or by one of his colleagues."

Tweek just watched him pace around the room and notice more and more about the simple envelope he held in his hands. "So there's two people against me now?"

"Yes, but you have two people helping you fight back, no?" Christophe tried to encourage Tweek to look on the brighter side but instead he earned a panicked nod from the blond and at the same time, Gregory decided to move on.

"This guy is… spoiled. He wants only the best. The best paper, the best envelope, the best ink," Gregory raised his index finger to point at the notes that were shuffled randomly on the table, "He, on the other hand, does not care. His paper, envelope, pen - all the cheapest things in the store."

"What if _he_ is just trying to throw us off with some simple facts?" Christophe questioned, and Gregory shot a very narrowed, and angry glance at him.

"Because they're different people. _I'm_ the hound, remember?" Gregory hissed, then casted his gaze on Tweek, hoping to earn his agreement, "It's _obvious_ that they both want very different things. _He_ wants you and _this man_ ," he roughly shoved the newest paper into the air with a strong grip, "wants something much, _much_ deeper than that."

"Deeper?" Christophe sneered, and uncrossed his arms to move next to his partner.

"Do you believe in people having souls, Tweek?" Gregory's pupils widened and he scanned the room to meet each of their eyes.

"Again?" Christophe scoffed, motioning for Tweek to sit down because he obviously was getting worked up over this whole ordeal.

"Yes, Chris." Gregory stared the shorter man dead in the eye before looking back at Tweek, "Do you understand what he's saying when he sends you these notes?"

"No… honestly, I usually believe that it's all work of a schizophrenic or something." Tweek shrugged before looking off to the ground, "Stuff like that."

"There's an obvious _shift_ , like in a poem." Gregory ignored Chris' rude roll of his eyes, "His first few notes were obviously sweet, like he was just admiring you from afar. They were _genuinely_ like that. But something _bad_ happened to him. When the shift happens, he starts talking about this man in black, yes?"

"Yeah, but I thought he was just hallucinating." Tweek offered, looking at Christophe helplessly.

"What about the souls, Gregory?" Christophe impatiently added, shifting his balance to situate himself against the wall.

"I'll _get_ to that, Christophe," Gregory countered, looking at the French man like he was about to punch him. "He talks highly of this man, and this man is obviously in a high position of power. Even higher than the biggest CEO in the world."

"God?" Christophe mentioned the name with disgust, teeth bared and eye twitching.

"Think lower," Gregory grinned, almost excited that they were getting onto something. "We can all agree that weird stuff happens in South Park, yes?"

Both of the other teens nodded in response, which allowed Gregory to continue, "Then what if something happened to the stalker's _soul_?"

"So something supernatural is occurring?" Chris tilted his head and shoved his pinkie finger into his ear to itch it, "Kinda like back in New York?"

"Exactly like New York." Gregory's face lost all excitement and instead he sat down next to Tweek and rested his head in his hand.

"What happened in New York?" Tweek chimed in, and Christophe immediately stared him down.

"That's a different subject." The brit waved Tweek's idea away and put the last note back onto the coffee table, "From what I have gathered, your stalker has made a deal with someone very, very powerful."

" _How powerful is he_?" Christophe chimed in a mock-game show voice, teeth showing in a slim grin.

Though, Gregory decided to ignore his impulsive outburst and move back to the current subject, "We'll get to the bottom of this, I assure you of that."

"But how long will this take?" Tweek's face dropped, fear prominent in his eyes and Gregory put his pale hand on his shoulder to give it a tight squeeze.

"I don't know, but Chris and I, we're fast workers, right?" Gregory looked back up at the frenchman, eyes bright with hope and excitement.

"Yeah, there's nothing to worry about." Christophe rolled a cigarette between his fingers before placing it carefully into his mouth and staring up blankly at the ceiling, "I'll be outside for a bit."

* * *

Man in black, possessed stalker, _souls_ , all this had Chris thinking too much and he needed to smoke to calm his nerves. His heart was riled up, beating fast and on the verge of exploding. He didn't know who to focus on right now, the stalker - who could strike at any moment, or the demon he made a contract with that could order the poor man to do anything. Fuck, the stalker probably didn't even have a mind of his own right now.

His fists were clenching and unclenching, nails piercing skin but not deep enough to draw blood. He puffed on his cigarette continuously, not able to drop the feeling of being watched. Is this what Tweek felt like? All day long, this paranoid?

Christophe never liked stalker cases. They always got too close for him, and you never really knew how crazy that person was until you met them face to face.

"Sometimes I ask myself why I even started doing this job," Christophe murmured to himself, sweeping his hair out of his face with dry fingers. He spit the cigarette bud out of his lips and crushed it thoughtlessly into the snow.

"Is that so?" A voice behind him rose, though Christophe was unable to move. He felt stuck as if he were literally glued still.

He didn't speak. That was one thing he was able to do and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He thought of words and all the ones he could form into sentences before closing his eyes and blowing air into the cold fog around him, "You do sound like an arrogant prick, just like how Gregory figured."

"How do you know which person you are talking to right now? The stalker, or the contract?" The voice reminded Christophe of Scar from _The Lion King_ , condescending and annoying all in one.

"I don't think the stalker has this type of power," Christophe chuckled, glancing down at his feet as he tried to move his toes, but he was even unable to do that.

"Very true," these words were quickly followed by a bored hum.

"Why are you here?" Chris gritted his teeth and was surprised when he felt his muscles relax, as if the spell had suddenly let go of him. The moment he noticed this, his head swung back to look at the owner of the voice.

"I have a proposition for you."


End file.
